First we
were friends. Then we were roommates. Now I want more…
What can I say about Chess Copper? The woman
is capable of bringing me to my knees. I know this about five minutes after
getting naked for her.
No one is more surprised than me. The prickly
photographer my team hired to shoot our annual charity calendar isn’t my usual
type. She’s defense to my offense, a challenge at every turn. But when I’m with
her, all the regrets and darkness goes away. She makes life fun.
I want to
know Chess, be close to her. Which is a bad idea.
Chess is looking for a relationship. I’ve
never given a woman more than one night. But when fate leaves Chess without a
home, I step up and offer her mine. We’re roommates now. Friends without
benefits. But it’s getting harder to keep our hands off each other. And the
longer we live together the more I realize she’s becoming my everything.
Trick is…
Now that I’ve made her believe I’m a bad bet, how do I convince her to give
this player a true shot at forever?
3.5 Hot Shot Stars
I love a good sports romance and the Game On series is always a go-to read for that. And The Hot Shot is another hit that has a cocky, but sweet pro-athlete and beautiful and quirky photographer that starts off hot from page one!
Finn Manus is the hot shot pro-quarterback that can't stop thinking about the beautiful photographer, Chess Cooper. She's so not what Finn usually goes for, but there is something about this woman that brings Finn to do anything for her.
Chess is tired of the dating game and when Finn Manus walks into her studio, he's the last guy that she needs in her life. But there's an attraction between the two. While they forge a friendship, lines start to blur and feelings for each other run deep.
The Hot Shot is a great read that is humorous, steamy and nothing is better than a sports romance read!
CHESS
Grumbling, I toss on some black lounge pants and my oversized Tulane
t-shirt and head to the drugstore.
My head throbs by the time I get there, and my insides are writhing.
I rest my hand against my lower stomach and grab a basket before calling James
to complain.
“I swear,” I tell him as I grab a bottle of painkillers. “It’s like
this entire day has been cursed.”
He snickers. “Curse. Get it? Curse?”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “Laugh it up.
Meanwhile, it feels as if someone is playing Battleship in my uterus.”
“Poor Chessie bear. At least we know why you were in such a foul
mood.”
A flush washes over my cheeks. “Yeah.” Lie. Lie. Lie. A tub
of salted caramel gelato makes its way into the basket.
“Tell me you’re getting some gelato,” James says.
I smile. “Just grabbed it.”
“Salted caramel?”
“You know it.”
I find the feminine products aisle and search for my brand. “I’m
going to go home, take a long bath with my gelato, and forget this fucking
day.” Forget Finn. “And then I’m going to go on Amazon and buying a freaking
year’s supply of tampons so I don’t have to make these kinds of emergency runs
anymore.”
A low, deep chuckle rumbles from behind me, and all the tiny hairs
lift on my arms.
“But you’ll still need your gelato,” a familiar—fuck me,
seriously?—voice points out.
My insides swoop even as my cheeks burn.
“Who is that?” James asks in my ear.
I slowly turn on one heel. “The plague,” I say, glaring up at Finn
Mannus’s smiling face.
“From asshat to plague.” Finn scrunches up his brow. “I’m not sure
if that’s a step down or a tie.”
“Who is that?” James nearly yells now.
I don’t take my eyes off Finn. “I’ll call you back.”
James’s squawks of protest cut off as I hit the end button.
“Are you stalking me, Mannus?”
Finn a rests his hands low on his lean hips. “Having a healthy
amount of conceit myself, I have to admire yours, but no, buttercup. My buddy
Woodson lives a few blocks away. It’s poker night. I’m stocking up on beer.”
It’s only then I notice a twelve pack tucked under his other arm.
“And tampons?” I ask, with a pointed look around the aisle we’re
standing in.
“Not tonight,” he says
easily. “Though we used to keep a pack of them back in college. Light flows
were perfect for stopping up bloody noses.”
A snort escapes me. “Now there’s a visual.” Somehow, I’ve taken a
step closer to him. He’s freshly showered, the golden brown strands of his hair
still damp at his temples. And I wonder if he’s just come from the gym or
practice. “So back in college you went and bought these tampons?”
“Nah,” he says with a cheeky smile. “I’d ask one of the girls
hanging around to get me some.”
“Of course you did.” My nose wrinkles with annoyance.
“Give me a little credit, Chess. I’d buy them now if I had to.”
“Hmm…” I eye him, trying not to return his smile. If only because
it’s more fun when he teases. “So why are you in this aisle now, if not for
potential nosebleed needs?”
“That’s easy.” He steps closer, a warm wall of muscle and clean
scent. “I heard your voice.”
For a second I just blink. “You recognized my voice?”
His gaze darts over my face as if he’s trying to get a read on why
I’m gaping at him. “Not to be…ah…rude, but you’re loud when you talk on the
phone.”
“Yeah, but… You recognized it.” We’d only just met. It occurs to me
that I’d recognized his both times he’d snuck up on me. Then again, his voice
is distinctive, flowing like hot honey when he’s relaxed or hammering down like
iron to rock when he’s taking command of a situation.
A soft flush of pink tints the tips of his ears. If I wasn’t staring
at him, I might have missed it. He shifts his weight. “Was I not supposed to?”
“No. Yes.” I shake my head and laugh. “I don’t know.”
He grins then. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
“I’m not flustered.” I am.
Kristen Callihan is an author because there is
nothing else she’d rather be. She is a three-time RITA nominee and winner of
two RT Reviewer’s Choice awards. Her novels have garnered starred reviews from
Publisher’s Weekly and the Library Journal, as well as being awarded top picks
by many reviewers. Her debut book FIRELIGHT received RT Magazine’s Seal of
Excellence, was named a best book of the year by Library Journal , best book of
Spring 2012 by Publisher’s Weekly, and was named the best romance book of 2012
by ALA RUSA. When she is not writing, she is reading.
